Soft
by bonnjie
Summary: NickRita Oneshot COMPLETE. Nick finds himself alive in Ritas flat, fun ensues.


By some insane miracle, Nick had found himself sitting in Rita Skeeters flat, blinking in spite of himself. She was rushing around, still in her pajamas after he abruptly disrupted her sleep. Soon enough he found a plate and a cup sitting in front of him. What she told him was coffee (Expresso) and some sandwiches (salad, I don't have much meat hanging around), all laid out in front of him on the glass coffee table. He watched her slump on the couch, making sure she didn't spill a drop of her drink, before looking at her clock and finding that it was only 2 in the morning. He looked at his hand, so used to being able to see straight through it, instead his eyes met a tanned hand with elongated fingers. He still didn't know what on earth was happening, all he knew was that he was alive, breathing and minus that awful ruff. He could feel, he could smell, and god did it feel good. He could feel the texture of his clothing, the roughness of his stubble, the silky softness of her bathrobe as it accidentally brushed against his arm.

"Nick, are you alright? I mean, this is all pretty ... strange."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Of course. I'm breathing, not transparent and I have a pulse. What could go wrong?"

"Can't argue with that."

The drink in her hand was most likely alcoholic, he thought to himself as he brushed strands of his dark brown hair out of his periwinkle blue eyes. He could smell something, was it firewhiskey? It looked like it. She didn't shudder as she downed it, he guessed she was used to drinking alcohol as if it was water. This whole thing was overwhelming, he just couldn't believe it. Looking over at her, he bent over and took some of the coffee, taking a sip and almost instantly spraying the contents of his mouth all over her nice glass coffee table.

"Its BITTER!"

"Yes, well, thats coffee for you."

"I can't believe you like this stuff."

"I'll swap."

She stood up, refilling her glass and taking his coffee, quickly gulping down the contents of the mug and sighing, watching him sitting stiffly on the couch, slowly sipping his newly-acquired firewhiskey. He didn't like this stuff, but it was much better than that ... coffee. He watched her fill the coffee mug with whiskey, wondering if that was a good idea. She really wasn't as fussed as he would have been about what she was having her alcoholic beverages in. He felt her bathrobe brush up against him again, feeling the sudden urge to feel it. It was soft to the touch, it might have been silk but it felt a little strange, like imitation silk. Surely she could afford silk? She seemed a little confused, watching the newly alive Nick feeling her bathrobe, much too close to her thigh for comfort, this whole thing was rather strange. He moved his hands closer, feeling the flannelette of her pajama bottoms, simply amazed at the new sensation.

"Rita! Look! Feel this!"

He took her hand, my goodness, that was soft, and placed it on the flannelette of her pajamas. She laughed, Nick was one of the strangest people she would ever meet. He was getting excited over her daggy flannelette pajamas, she'd have to lock this new Nick up and keep him as her slave forever and ever. He kept a hold of her hand, absentmindedly running his thumb across her hand, watching as goosebumps began to form on her creamy skin. Was she cold? He rubbed her arm gently, trying to make her warm. A giggle escaped her mouth, she seemed to be enjoying this. With a grin upon his face, he ran his hand slowly up her arm, her breath catching in her throat and making her think erratically. _ i Jesus, Nick is TOUCHING MY ARM. TOUCHING. MY. ARM. Ohgodohgodohgod. /i _ He placed another hand on her knee, watching her down the rest of her firewhiskey and place the mug on the couch, not caring about the stains the remains of the firewhiskey would leave. Moving his hand up her arm, he reached her shoulder and moved closer, running it past the thin strap of her black singlet and upwards along her neck slowly and enjoying the sensation of her soft skin against his.

"You're soft."

"I try."

With his hand on her neck, he moved his other hand upwards and placed it on her waist, pulling her on top of him and laughing to himself at the shocked expression on her face. She didn't try to move away, a smirk growing on her lips as she got a little more comfortable in his lap. The flannelette felt nice against his hand, but her warm skin felt much better. He slipped his hand under her singlet, pulling her closer to him and looking up at her deep blue eyes.

"What are you doing? Nick?"

No reply. His other hand wandered up to her cheek, my, that was softer than her neck. Everything about her was soft, sweet, and simple. She was plain adorable, simply darling, he thought to himself. He moved closer to her face, smelling her dirty blonde hair that had settled into large ringlets. It was a strange smell, it made him curious, very curious indeed. He'd never smelt something so tropical, so exotic, so different before.

"What do you use on your hair?"

"Pineapple and Mango shampoo and conditioner. Why?"

"It smells divine."

Her breath caught in her throat again, she didn't know what to do. Here was Nick, alive and well, and she was sitting on top of him. This was a situation straight from her teenage dreams, the ones that she had revisited many a time afterwards. Bending forward, she pecked his cheek quickly, pulling back and trying to hide the bright red blush that was growing across her pale cheeks, to no avail. The grin on his face grew to epic proportions, he hadn't felt lips on his cheeks in almost 500 years. Pulling her as close to him as humanly possible, feeling his chest against hers, her short, sharp breaths as he moved his arm to her back. Pressing his lips to hers softly, he didn't bother to hide his enthusiasm as she pressed back.


End file.
